


Switching Gears

by DrJackstraw



Series: Fear and Inquiry in Gotham City: An Arkhamverse AU [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Arkham (Video Games), Batman: Arkham Knight
Genre: Aaand now you know what's up with the title, F/M, I know people tend to interpret Edward as either a Dom or a sub, I love bullying this man as much as the rest of the fandom, and tuck him into bed, but I also wanted to bathe him, but I didn't use pronouns or gendered language, but I see him as being BOTH, meaning they have a V, once again, our Reader is AFAB, sooo, suck him, that's what you're in for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:47:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26446582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrJackstraw/pseuds/DrJackstraw
Summary: As Edward Nigma's second-in-command, your job is to keep the machinery oiled up and running, including The Riddler himself.
Relationships: Edward Nygma/Reader, Edward Nygma/You, The Riddler/Reader, The Riddler/You
Series: Fear and Inquiry in Gotham City: An Arkhamverse AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2024974
Comments: 2
Kudos: 67





	Switching Gears

“Boys, could you give us a moment?”

“Sure thing, boss,” the hired knucklehead nodded towards you before even addressing his actual employer. “Hey, boss, think you can stand?”

“What are you implying, you meathead?”

The fact remains that it was these meatheads who caught him when he fell off the malfunctioning assembly line. He’d been a sleepwalker’s step away from being dismembered and reassembled into one of his riddlebots. It stung like salt sprinkled in his wounded pride, but he could ignore the sting.

What he couldn’t ignore were his own men (he doesn’t employ boys, thank you very much) taking orders from you. Who do you think you are talking over him? Nobody talks over Edward Nigma! 

“I can stand just fine, thank you,” he sneered even as he struggled to straighten himself. He was on his own two feet again and he’d be damned if he’d depend on anybody to walk on them. “Some privacy, please.” It was him they should be following, not you. When they exited the restroom, it was his order they were following, not yours.

“When’s the last time you ate?”

The man with all the answers was perplexed by your question. He knitted his brows closer, one of them even twitching as his eyes (more bloodshot red than brilliant blue) watched you approach him with no regard for the rage that was boiling just underneath his frown. 

“Or slept? Or took a goddamn break?" 

You bellowed and it bounced off of the tile walls to beat against his eardrums. Each step you took closer made each word ring louder. And, as if the volume of your voice alone knocked the wind out of him, he sunk back against the sink, holding himself up with one hand while the other rubbed at his temples.

"Could you talk any louder?” He grunted out, gathering his thoughts. Eating? Resting? Sleeping? None of those are on his schedule and they haven’t been for a while now. Halloween was only weeks away. Everyone was expected to make sacrifices, but was he really ready to lay down his own life? He almost did just that tonight. He was at a loss for words, but he found enough of them to speak a full sentence: “I can’t hear myself think.”

“Edward,” he hardly heard you huff out his name. And, once he removed his grimy glove from over his eyes, he barely saw your face and how it contorted with concern. “You’re tired." 

A warm hand of yours on a cold cheek of his had him slumping his head forward in defeat. You were right, of course. He was tired. Beat. Drained. Bone-deep.

"I finally got the boiler running.” You needed both hands to hold up his head, so you cupped his scruffy chin. “You’re not getting into bed with me while smelling like an abandoned auto repair shop.”

That should’ve stung like the dash of salt that it was. It was soothing instead, much like the circular motion of your thumbs against his sunken, unshaven cheeks. He could do little more than scoff. “I already bathed.”

“Yeah, but that was before you took a tour of the sewer system,” you smiled and he mirrored you, just as broken as the actual mirror behind him. You took his gloved hands into yours and he held onto them like his life depended on you. Given his sorry state, it was highly probable that it did. “Everything’s set up in the locker room. I bought new towels and everything.”

“Green?” Edward learned to walk again as he followed you.

“How did you know?” You gladly guided him, never letting go of his hands.

“Just a guess.”

•••

“Boss, the food’s here! Where should I-”

The boss cut him off while almost cutting into the other boss’ cheek: “In the office, please." 

You were in the middle of shaving him and Edward must have been exhausted to trust anybody wielding a sharp object that close to his throat. And he was exhausted. Beat. Drained. Bone-deep. It was a good thing he had your bare legs wrapped around his waist (about as snug as the towel covering it) keeping him up on his feet.

He couldn’t see through the walls, but his employee sounded embarrassed from behind the one he was hiding. "Sorry, boss and…boss. I didn’t mean to-”

“Wallace, is that takeout?”

“Thank you, Wally! In the office, okay?” You shouted from atop the sink, running the straight razor under the tap.“It’s sushi from that place you like. There should be some orange juice and waffles in those bags, too.”

“You sent him grocery shopping and he…went shopping for groceries?” He wrecked through the wrinkles in his brain for another answer, a less obvious one. “Why?” Playing the fool never put anyone in a flattering light and it sure didn’t make The Riddler seem any smarter.

“They need to eat and so do we.”

For once, he’d been asking the wrong questions. He had to work on rephrasing it as you worked some aftershave into his sore skin. “Why did you send my men to do your bidding?”

Not even your hands could massage the wrinkles out of his morose face. “Who else was I supposed to send?” You combed back his damp hair (you had to get under the makeshift shower to shampoo it yourself) with your blunt nails and looked down into his eyes. “There! Handsome again!”

Vanity and curiosity made up the cocktail that sloshed around in his stomach as he looked over your damp shoulder and into the steamed mirror. With one hand clearing it for view and the other still secured on your thigh, he scrutinized his sour expression. His eyes were encircled by dark rings where they laid inside his sunken sockets and his hair, slicked back and shiny, was turning grey just above his ears. He’d never admit it, not even to himself, but Edward Nigma has seen better days. 

“I told you, didn’t I?” You tore his attention away from himself by bringing the two of you that much closer together, your towel-covered chest pressed against his bare one. “The scruff had to go.” You threw your arms around his neck, prompting his hand to return on your thigh. You breathed the words so close to his lips, it felt like you were feeding him air.

“You didn’t cut me twice,” he moved his lips against yours, but his own didn’t catch. He moved his mouth again, this time to stretch it into a grin.“I’m sure to recover from the one time that you did." 

"Asshole,” you huffed, as if you’d been holding your breath for a kiss. “Stop playing.”

“You forget who you’re talking to, boss,” Edward enunciated the last word by squeezing your side. “You forget who’s in charge.”

“Wasn’t it you?”

His smug smile was all but slapped off his face when you tightened your thighs around him. He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth as he was faced with a challenge: you. You were always a challenge.

There was more merriment than malice in his words, yet he still snarled them: “You shouldn’t talk while on your high horse,” There was more pride than playfulness in the act, yet he still slid both of his hands under your thighs and snatched you up. “You never know when it’s going to throw you off.”

“Edward,” you shrieked, startled. “Put me down!” Securing your arms around his neck and squeezing your legs around his middle, you braced yourself to be bucked off your high horse. “You’re gonna drop me! Put me down!”

There was something almost soothing to be found in your screams. The sound of your sudden surrender was better than the pity party you’d been throwing him. “When have I ever let you down?” It was a rhetorical question. He had been literally leaning on you just a shower ago. He was tired of feeling helpless, control slipping from his fidgeting fingers. He was tired of being held like some invalid, thoughts slipping his mind. 

Yes, he was tired, so it was about time he retired. And, since his office was as good as any bedroom and the cot he’d build in the back could accommodate two, you were joining him.

“I think it was just an hour ago that you let yourself down.”

“But not you.” Edward was elated by the return of the roaring fire in your belly, and by the lingering looks of his men (yes, they were his) as he passed them. You had towels (and each other) to cover yourselves with, but that was enough to give them ideas. Ideas only he alone was allowed put into practice. 

•••

The computer screen displayed the time in neon green. 4 AM was mere minutes away when he tossed you onto the cot’s cold covers and collapsed on top. His head wanted nothing more than to be laid on a pillow, but his other head was restless. You ended up rolling a sleep-humping Edward off of you. 

“And you called me a tease.” He didn’t have time to whine or wrestle you into submission. His stomach was doing both of those things to him. 

“You’re literally starving and so am I,” you had to leave him and his makeshift bed in order to grab the takeout Wally had dropped off on the desk. 

By the time you fed him his first sushi roll, it was 4 AM.

“This might just be the best meal I’ve had in weeks.” He sucked the tips of each of your fingers clean after inhaling his last roll. “Remind me to talk to Crane about sparing the old and his business." 

"The doctor owes you one.” You returned the favor by licking the length of the two fingers offering the last spring roll to you. “He owes me one, too. If I hadn’t fished him out of the harbor-”

“He never would’ve gotten his first.“

"It was mouth-to-mouth, Edward.”

“It was the closest he ever got to being kissed,” he laughed, but the bitter taste of it lingered for longer than he would’ve liked. He let his fingers linger against your sweet mouth, just to balance out the flavor. “He wanted to get closer still.”

“What are you talking about?”

“He’d asked about you as soon as he could use his jaw again.”

You grinned behind the digits you’d drooled all over. “Jealous?”

“Don’t be ridiculous-”

The digital watch on his wrist started beeping at 4:30 AM.

“What’s that?”

“It’s time to wake up.”

“Wrong. It’s bedtime.” Then, like the tease that you are, you wrapped your hand around his wrist to turn off the alarm just as your lips wrapped around his middle finger. You sucked him into your mouth, all the way down your throat and up to his knuckle.

Once his hunger had been satiated, he could tame his tiredness. Edward felt like he had enough energy to play. And he wanted to play with you

“Your mouth is saying one thing,” he tipped your chin up with his wet fingers for a closer look at your salacious smile. “And acting out another. Double-meanings and double-entendres. Is that a riddle of your own? You’re adorable!”

He was pleased with the pout he made you put on. He even chuckled as he chased your mouth with his own. You were being quite childish by moving your head from side to side, but he’s sure you’d say the same thing about him and his games. 

“Don’t patronize me,” you spit fire at him, but he didn’t even flinch. He was feeling up your scorching skin under his shirt’s (he was wearing the matching pants) collar. The grip he had on your throat was weak, yet it knocked the air out of your lungs.

He’d finally caught your lips with his and you tasted as sweet as the victory you surrendered to him and as intoxicating as the sake you shared. 

“Patronize you? I wouldn’t dare,” he followed you down once the back of your head hit the pillows. “Why, you’d swallow me whole before I opened my mouth.”

“Maybe I will,” you held onto his hand that lay resting instead of flexing around your neck.

So confident he was in his coercion of you, he took his hand along with your own off of your throat. He pushed the both of them against his clothed crotch and the burgeoning bulge it covered. 

“Oh, I know you will, little sphinx." 

Edward enjoyed the sound of surprise that almost slipped out if you, even as he suppressed it with a kiss. He enjoyed the feeling of your fingers on his erection even more. He should’ve expected his watch going off for the second time and you immediately taking advantage of the distraction it provided. He didn’t anticipate either.

He huffed as he was pushed off of you and back into the pillows "Did you press the snooze instead on the off button on purpose?" 

It was your turn to tease again, so you didn’t hold back. Pressing your palms against his bare and breathless chest, you picked at the scabs of his wounded pride. "You’re the Riddler. You figure it out.” You didn’t give him enough time to figure it out, however. You went straight to straddling his hips and squeezing your thighs around them.

His old pajama pants weren’t enough to protect his crotch from being set on fire. With no bottoms getting in its way (you were wearing nothing but his top), the searing heat sipping through your slit had soaked all the way through the flimsy fabric. 

“Well, aren’t you clever?” His voice was strained as he spoke. He was straining himself trying to stand still. How long would that last?

There was nothing logical about that little cunt of yours collapsing the colossus that was his reason. And that was just it, wasn’t it? This had nothing to do with logic - it was all about instinct. 

When he bared his teeth and sunk his claws into your sides like some animal, it was all about instinct. 

“Enough games,” Edward erupted. He didn’t even sound like himself anymore, but rather a snarling beast. “Because of you,” his growl was low as he pushed his pants down his pelvis. “I can’t even think straight." 

His cock sprung up and slapped your pussy. Oh, it stung so sweet!

The sooner he emptied his balls, the faster the blood would come rushing back to his brain where it belonged. 

"I’m not done playing,” you hissed as Edward’s erection hit you. And, before he could grab it himself, you flattened it against his stomach by slotting it in between your slit. “I don’t think you are either.”

“Why, you little-” He gasped like a dying man. Your labia moving up and down his length had him gulping on all the air he lost. “I knew you’d be the death of me.” His hands weren’t his own after being cuffed by your own on either side of his face. “I knew you’d…you’d swallow me whole.”

“Only if you ask nicely,” your moaning was marred with mockery.

He’d give you a piece of his mind, if he had anything left to give. He’d lost it between your legs, between your second pair of lips and that inebriating liquor you were drooling all over his dick.

“Ask me to fuck you, Edward.”

“You. Ask. Me.” His hips couldn’t stop moving, snapping against his will, like he was trying to buck you off. “Nicely.”

“Eh-Edward,” you warbled your words above him, your hold on his hands weakening. “Ed-OH!”

And, when he thought all his brains had already been blown away, you made them explode (and his other head almost do the same) all over again.

It all happened in a blink of a neon light. Your thighs tightened around him and your spine arched all the way back, taking your torso with it. You whipped your hair back as you fell on your hunches. Finally, your chest expanded and contracted, your skin shining with sweat (he had a peak of your puckered nipple once his shirt slipped off your shoulder) in the green glow of the monitors. 

He’d only halted his hips out of fear of disrupting the dreamlike image. He might’ve stopped breathing altogether.

“Edward,” you sighed, slumping your head forward. 

He hissed your name, sucking some much-needed air through his clenched teeth. 

With your knees now up and your hands spreading them further apart, he got a front-row view of your red slit, his purple hard-on, and the slick that spread out between the two like spiderwebs. “Do you want to come?" 

"Trick question,” he growled as he gathered himself. “A valiant effort.” Yet, he still fell. He was on his hunches and threatening to overthrow you when you pushed him back into his place.

“An honest question.” You had a hold on him, one hand pressing down on one pectoral as the other squeezed his shaft.

“N-naturally,” he inhaled through his nose, eyes blown into two black holes and his lips chewed red. 

“Ask me to fuck you,” you grinned, the grip on his cock loosening to move up and down the length of it. 

How many times did he have to remind you who is in charge? At least one more time? So be it! Wrapping his hand around your smaller one, he started stroking in a hurry. Oh, but you couldn’t let him, could you? You just had to smack his hand away and secure your own around his wet and spongy head. 

“What are you-”

“You said I could swallow you whole if I wanted to,” you licked your lips as you slid down his body, slowly stroking him again. “Don’t you want me to?” When you were eye level with it, you spit in your other hand before wrapping it around the base. 

“Rhetorical question,” he swallowed, tasting the last of your saliva on his tongue. Your last kiss was just a memory on his lips. Your next one would be tainted with his own taste, he’ll make sure of it. “Of course I do.”

“Say it,” you demanded, his entire dick and life in your hands. “Say ‘please’.”

“Let me come,” he ordered, your entire head of hair in his hands. 

“You didn’t use the magic word.” You held him still, stroking no more. And, with your cool and calculating tone, you spoke searing words against his shaft. “Please let me come.”

“Puh-please,” Edward endured the sound of his own submission, that pathetic plea of his. He could no longer endure his own erection. “Please swallow me whole.”

“Good boy,” you praised him, finally (oh, finally) pressing your pursed lips against his penis. “Such a good boy.” You peppered him with kisses as you climbed all the way up to his painful, purple cockhead. 

“Please,” he pulled your hair with one hand and pushed it away from your face with the other. “Please let me come.”

Edward Nigma himself couldn’t tell you what did the trick. If he were to guess, he’d say it wasn’t just one thing. Your loving praise, your talented mouth, and your playful teasing were all contributing factors. Therefore, when he came down your throat as you finally (oh, finally) swallowed him whole, it was you in your entirety that had made him come.

“Edward,” you whispered into his ear. “Are you asleep?”

“What is the only question you can’t answer yes to?” With his weary eyes closed, he used his trembling fingertips to locate your lips. He kissed them, suckled them, tasting the tang of his own come on them. “I’m not, but I will be soon.”

“Fucking finally,” you sighed into the side of his neck. 

You must’ve been tired yourself after all the trouble you went through cleaning his cock. He’d almost fallen asleep to the feeling of your kitten licks. Now, with a leg and an arm swung over his side, you started snoring against his spine.

It was 5 AM when his alarm went off for the third time. 

“What the fuck is that?”

“It’s bedtime,” he ripped the watch off of his wrist and buried it under the pillow.

“Good night,” you kissed him between his wing bones and he felt like he might fly away with the Sandman, if only for one tonight.

“Good night.”


End file.
